For the Love of Something
by Finnegan0724
Summary: Sequel to For the Love of the Game. Emma finds that there's more to a home run than she realized. SwanQueen
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Yes, this is the sequel to For the Love of the Game. Yes, there is actually a plot involved (not much of one)that has more than Regina swinging a baseball bat. No, I still don't own the show or any of its affiliates. **

There were fifteen steps that separated Queen from Queen, and of those fifteen steps only three were blocked by an unfortunately placed waitress by the name of Ruby Lucas. Tall and lean, she possessed the grace to scurry out of the way but not the willpower to force herself out of the destructive path between the two women standing off at either end of the diner. Instead, Ruby leaned back against the counter bar to enjoy the show, brown eyes carefully cataloguing the series of events to relay later at the White Rabbit bar on the outer edge of town to those less fortunate who missed the stand-off.

"Regina."

"Snow."

And that was how it went for the next five minutes, with the two women alternating between confirming each other's names and long periods of silence. Frankly, it would have been downright boring if not for the blonde head beside the older of the two brunette's. As the blonde curls bounced, the tension increased in the diner- like a hairpin trigger was the only thing to decide their fates and the blonde's bouncing feet the only thing to keep them from total destruction. Time continued to pass, confirmed by several well-timed glances to the wall clock above the main door, in slow motion as the two Queens squared off, each ready for the impending fight.

Then, it was nothing. Like a vacuum sucking all of the tense air out of the room, Snow White offered the olive branch to her former step-mother with a simple, "Do you still take your coffee black?" As if nothing bad had ever transpired between the two of them; as if Snow White's daughter wasn't hovering by the Evil Queen's side looking more guilty than she had any right to when she was holding the woman's hand.

"One sugar," was the succinct reply, though more staid than their usual conversations consisted of. "And for you, dear?" Regina turned to the hovering presence by her side, observing the wide-eyed expression and downright nervous state of the blonde woman.

"Hot chocolate with cinnamon," Emma replied with a slight twitch to her right eye. "And a bottle of Jack, if I can get it."

"No drinking. I want you sober enough to remember this later, Emma," Snow White informed her daughter. "Did you get all of that, Ruby? Oh, and a hot chocolate for Henry, too. He shouldn't have to suffer because his mother forgot to mention she was dating the Evil Queen before they announced they were getting married."

The twitch along Emma's right side became more pronounced as it worked its way down to her fingers. If the subtle accusations over what had happened at the baseball field or the not-so-subtle looks of sympathy and regret from her mother didn't stop soon, the twitch might become permanent. "She's not the Evil Queen," the sheriff blurted. "Well, she's still a Queen, but she hasn't done anything evil lately."

Except hit a home run to prove a point, make a half-assed proposal to the town's savior, and then start a staring match with said savior's mother on home plate when they announced the news of their impending marriage.

"Which we'll be discussing as soon as I can wrap my head around the fact that you want to marry the woman who tried to kill me several times." Though she had been stuck in stasis without memory of her daughter for twenty-eight years, Snow White had the motherly glare down, and she used it with surprising ease and effectiveness. "Or the fact that you've managed to hide it from me for so long."

Emma shrugged in response. It really hadn't been that hard, well, not until the community baseball game where she had the ill-conceived notion of betting with Regina in order to force the other woman clear out of the closet she had so convincingly hidden them in. After everything that had happened in the last few years- breaking the curse, being transported to Fairy Tale Land, coming back, watching her mother wallow in guilt after manipulating Regina into killing her own mother, saving Storybrooke, going to Neverland, saving Henry, kicking Gold's ass from here to eternity- the announcement that she wanted the town to know she was in a relationship with Regina "Evil Queen" Mills had not seemed that newsworthy. Or, at least, not to the level of emergency meeting post-game at Granny's.

"That was my choice." Regina offered as she held out a chair for her son to clamber onto, forcing herself not to recoil at the astounding amount of dirt collected on his shorts from the game. "Your daughter wanted to inform you shortly after we decided to continue seeing each other. It was only when she offered me an out today that I realized how very much I wanted to acquiesce to her demands regarding our relationship status and the town."

The sheriff nodded along with the tedious explanation of her fiancée's thought process. Acquiesce, her rear end. If anything, she had been closer than ever to breaking through Regina's seemingly unbreakable walls that would cause the other woman to slip in public and call her anything other than "Miss Swan" with thinly-veiled contempt riding low in her voice. "Technically, I offered you a hit. You only had to hit one ball for me to lose the bet. You were the one who took it one step further, whacked the ball over the back fence, and proposed to me."

"I don't like to lose," the queen offered in a clipped tone. "What's more, I do what I feel is necessary to keep my possessions close."

That would have been sweet if she hadn't been referred to as a possession, Emma mused as she blew against the rim of her mug full of hot chocolate, cinnamon, and, pleasantly, a hint of liquid courage.

"Is that all it was? Believing Emma would leave if you didn't offer her something more?" Snow sounded about as amused as she might if Emma announced she was marrying one of the Lost Boys who ran amuck in town, causing all sorts of destruction about the mill apartments or, god forbid, the lecherous Captain Hook. "Is that really what you want, Emma, to be someone's possession? That's-"

"Get off your soapbox, Snow," the blonde snapped. "Regina didn't mean it like that. If she had, I'd be wearing some jacked up doggy shock collar that prevented me from leaving her front yard. And-" She dragged her shirt collar down to expose her collarbones, "Look, ma, no collar." As she spared a glance to Ruby in thanks for whatever liquor was added to her usual order, she caught a glimpse of Henry across the table, looking far more serious than a boy his age should. "Henry?"

"Why don't you want mom and Emma to be happy, grandma?"

Snow's head snapped back at the light accusation. "I never said that, Henry. I just want to make sure your mother knows what she's doing. Marrying Regina...she should consider it first before jumping in blindly because of a shiny trinket."

"There's no ring yet, mom. It was more of a spur of the moment kind of thing, remember?" Emma turned to her side, silently inquiring. "There isn't a ring, right? I mean, you don't go around carrying one in your pocket or anything, do you?" Funny, she couldn't see Regina being the one to randomly spring the question on some unsuspecting guy or gal around town, yet, in a way, she had.

"Well," Regina responded dryly, "I had been holding onto one for the time when Miss Lucas grew tired of bringing lukewarm coffee to my table and wanted to become a kept woman, but I suppose I could repurpose that ring for the sheriff."

The sheriff scowled at the table. "That's not even funny."

"There's no ring," the brunette corrected, dropping her hand from the table to rub gentle circles along her partner's knee. "Emma offered me something this afternoon that I couldn't let pass by. When given the option to one-up her, I did without question but that doesn't lessen what I feel for your daughter, Snow."

"But, you couldn't-" Snow took a deep breath and considered the two women sitting opposite her. One, her beautiful daughter, and the other, her former step-mother who had tried to wipe her off the face of the planet on more than one occasion- and yet, somehow, it made sense that they would drawn to each other like a moth to a flame. No, she corrected herself, the moth always burned in agony when it fluttered to the flickering flames; she wanted something more for her daughter than pain and destruction. "You couldn't have asked her in a more romantic fashion, or, for heaven's sake, Regina! You could have at least asked me or her father for her hand in marriage!"

And there was the kicker. Poor Snow White wasn't as involved in everyone else's business as she would have liked to be. Emma smirked around the edge of her mug before she lowered it to the table. "I thought it was decent," she said with a shrug. It had certainly gotten the point across that Regina wanted her to stay. "So, are we done with the parental intimidation routine yet?"

"Yeah," Henry piped up with a grin. "Can we talk about how cool it was that mom hit a home run? It was awesome! Like, one, two, three, and then, thunk! It flew right over Hook's head."

"Captain," Regina corrected lightly. "He prefers Captain Hook, dear."

Henry nodded obediently. "Right. It flew over Captain Hook's head. It was really cool, mom," he added almost shyly. With his head ducked to his chest and big eyes blinking widely, he asked, "Do you think you could teach me how to hit like that before the next game? And throw. Emma tried to teach me but all she managed to do was throw the ball wide and hit me in the head when a crow dive-bombed her."

Regina blinked at the news that her son had been involved in an accident, a head injury no less, without her knowledge. Her fingers flew through his hair without prompting, searching for sign of brain injury or any defining marks or bumps. Finding none and suitably satisfied that he had walked normally, clumsy but normal, at the baseball field and into the diner and appeared to have no other nasty side effects attributable to her fiancée's fear of birds, she turned to the blonde woman and scowled. "How could you not tell me he was hit in the head?"

"He was wearing a helmet! Besides, my fingers slipped before the ball left my hand; it was more like a light tap on the head." Emma defended herself to the best of her abilities, well aware the full trial and sentencing portion of Regina's ire would come at a time when there were no witnesses around. "If you're so upset by it, then you can teach the kid how to bat properly the next time we go practice."

"Don't think I won't."

"You should."

"Clearly, he needs someone with more self control than to let a ball fly at him when the mood strikes."

"There was a bird, crazy lady; it flew right at my head!"

Regina broke her heated stare from the blonde, reluctant now that they had acquired quite a bit of an audience in the other patrons of the diner. "Henry, I'm going to take you to practice this weekend. Perhaps your mother would like to join us, provided she can keep her butter fingers wrapped tightly around the ball this time."

"Yeah, cool," Henry said flatly, not entirely thrilled with the idea of spending the afternoon with the bickering twosome. He loved his mothers, but there were some things he didn't need to see- the bickering flaming into looks of desire or, worse, the kissing and the hand-holding and all the stuff that happened when he was sent off to his grandparent's house for the night for 'family bonding'.

"And, perhaps-" Snow interrupted, not ready to acknowledge the standard normal bickering that went on between her daughter and the (former) Evil Queen might actually be considered flirting. "Perhaps you could teach me as well, Regina."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Big apology for the gap in postings (for everything). **

Regret.

The oppressive feeling of regret washed over her as soon as she set her new sneakers on the red dirt of the baseball field. And, oddly, freedom- the freedom to lob baseballs at Snow White's head without reprove from her partner or any of the annoying citizens she had brought from the Enchanted Forest to Storybrooke. Honestly, she should have left them there, because if Snow squeaked one more time when the ball sailed harmlessly past her, they were all going to regret it.

It was a curse-able offense, she had long since reasoned. Her former step-daughter was athletic, good with a bow and arrow, but somehow the idea of a baseball flying near her turned the poor girl into shrieking, squealing mess. And it was exhausting.

Regina set up on the pitcher's mound, subtly adjusting the fit of her newly purchased black polo shirt and jeans while Emma coached her mother on the proper way to hold the bat at home plate. It was a useless but thoughtful gesture, the mayor mused as she tossed the ball to Henry, who stood at first base with a bored expression crossing over his face.

This clearly was not the one-on-one practice the boy had been anticipating when he requested her help in preparing for the next big game. But, if the unholy powers of Snow White's shrieks were to be quelled, it would take more than the power of true love, which eliminated the need for Prince Charming to stand by and root for the princess; it would take the combined powers of the Evil Queen and Savior to get Snow to even the levels of Dopey, the butter-fingered dwarf, never mind suitable to play against Maleficent and Hook.

"Eek!"

Regina couldn't help but roll her eyes. She hadn't even thrown the ball anywhere near the girl!

"It's ok, mom. Just choke up on the bat this time. The ball won't hit you, probably." Emma paused and trailed her eyes over the mostly empty field, searching for a rogue crow or pigeon that might prove her wrong. She tossed the ball to Henry, forcing the boy to pay attention to the practice session instead of whatever bug had settled on his shoelaces. "Regina's going to throw the ball nice and easy until you get it, ok?"

"Emma," Snow began. "I'm not so sure about this. Maybe Ruby is right. I could hand out refreshments at the next game and someone else could take my place on the team."

"Eek!"

Emma scowled at the ball that barely missed her thigh before she turned her gaze on the pitcher responsible for said ball. Her fiancée looked innocent enough, but there was something about the altogether too innocent expression she had donned that let Emma know she was guilty as sin. That, and Henry was too busy counting the threads on his own ball. "Could you hold the flying projectiles, Regina?"

Regina shrugged in response to the request, and called Henry over from his place of butterflies and red dirt. With a quick overview of how to throw a decent pitch, she collected one of the stray balls that had been tossed back to her after an unsuccessful hit and handed it to the boy. "Aim for the center of the plate, Henry," she instructed with a hopeful thought directed between her son's notable clumsiness and Snow's hard head.

"Is grandma ready?"

"It doesn't matter at this point, dear. Just practice your pitch and let Emma worry about your grandmother's lack of batting skills."

With a tight frown, Henry geared up for the pitch, mimicking the motions both of his mothers went through before they took aim over home plate. He could do this. As long as a bird didn't distract him like it had Emma, he could do this. After all, it couldn't be that hard if his mom had picked it up so easily. Though, he reminded himself, she was well used to throwing fireballs and the largest thing he had thrown in recent memory was a balled up piece of trash, and even then it had landed well outside of the trash can.

"Eek!"

"I didn't even have the chance to throw the ball," Henry said, confused as he straightened and dropped the ball to the ground. "This is lame."

"That's because your grandmother is as useless today as she was as a princess frolicking around the castle," Regina responded dryly, and not without a bit of cruelty towards the memory of the foolish child she had been forced to raise. "The only time she presented any sort of promise was when I-"

The boy glanced up, unsure of why his mother had trailed from her statement. Until-

"Holy shit! Regina, no magic! No fireballs! Bad Queen!"

Emma hopped from foot to foot, eluding the smoke that fluttered about her worn sneakers, all the while aiming confused and worried glances across the field to where Regina stood looking as bored as she had ever seen her. Without a word, she stormed across the last traces of magic that lingered on the ground until she reached the pitcher's mound and the smirking sorceress. "What the hell was that about? You could have killed us!"

Regina rolled her eyes. "If I wanted to kill you, I would have. Please, Emma, don't insult me again by insinuating I can't control my magic. I merely wanted to remind my step-daughter that there's no need to scream over a baseball when there are more evil forces at work."

"Oh, is that all?" The blonde scowled and kicked at the dirt in frustration. "Stop using magic, Regina, to intimidate people, especially my mother. We want her on our side, not thinking up plans to break us up because you can't keep your damn twitchy magic fingers from committing arson to public property." With a deep inhale of dusty air, Emma released it and shrugged her shoulders low. She bounced on her toes for a long minute, cocked her head to the side, and then said, "Switch with her. There's no way I'm going to be able to convince her you aren't using this as an excuse to try to kill her now."

"I wasn't trying to kill her," the former queen huffed as she crossed the field. "I merely wanted to remind her-"

"That the ball isn't scary," Snow finished for her. "If you wanted to kill me, you would have done it years ago when I offered you my heart. I know that, and, on some level, Emma knows that, too. I think she just wanted us to...oh, I don't know, get along?"

Regina glanced back to where Emma was showing their son her latest and greatest pitching moves, and with a conspiratorial glance to the woman beside her, she said, "Do you think we should let her know that you come to my office for lunch every Thursday?"

The princess looked every bit affronted as if Regina had asked if she wanted to shoot Bambi and come over for deer stew later in the week. Then, her expression turned blank as she considered the proposition. What harm would it do for Emma to know that the great enemies were much more friendly (not friends, no) than they had been for several decades. "Maybe we shouldn't tip our hand just yet."

"Perhaps not. I do enjoy her being so thoroughly confused," Regina revealed with a soft smile directed at the blonde woman in the middle of showing off to the boy who just wanted to spend some time learning how to improve his skills, instead of watching and waiting for his family to figure out their issues without resorting to name-calling and magic. "And fired up. All of that passion-"

"Still her mother," Snow interrupted quickly and with a jerky wave of her hand. "I don't need to hear about...the passion," she finished lamely, shaking her head firmly as if the mere action would rid herself of the thoughts. Conversations with Regina had been considerably easier after the trip to Neverland, even more so after Henry had been returned to his mothers' care, but that did not mean she condoned the two women keeping their relationship a secret for so long. For nearly four months, she had ventured into the mayor's office at Town Hall without so much as a pen for protection to have lunch, and yet Regina couldn't find a way to insert, "I'm dating your daughter," into the conversation?

"We should probably-"

Regina nodded swiftly, raising her voice until it carried over the field "You and your imbecilic husband, the two idiots. It's a wonder you've lasted more than ten minutes here without running to his side, screaming about how you will always find each other."

That remark had a bit of a bite to it, but Snow continued on her way without so much as a frown in place. Though, she did have to wonder how long Regina had been waiting to use that particular barb. Without a word, she accepted Emma's worn glove and the ball Henry had been tossing around.

"So, you just throw it," Emma advised, distracted by the wiggle Regina had perfected since the last game as she prepared to swing the bat. "And don't hit the batter. Or anyone else." Truthfully, it didn't matter what her mother did; she wanted to see if Regina could reproduce what she did before and hit the ball.

"I think I caught that from what we've been doing for the past hour, Emma." And with that, Snow threw the baseball with all her might, aiming more for the outside of the plate than anything else.

Thunk!

That was it. There were over three hundred channels subscribed to by the Mills family and Emma was going to add her own when they got home- the MLB station. If it worked for the Evil Queen, then it would work for the savior and, hopefully, Snow White.


	3. Chapter 3

As much as she regretted the words that tingled on the edge of her tongue, it was pretty darn good to have the run of the Mills mansion during the day. With nothing better to do than watch television (including the newest purchase- the MLB channels), catch up on some reading (usually whatever Regina had left laying around), and gorge herself on sugary treats- oh, and watch the kid. Yes, the days when her little minions- deputies- were on duty were good ones, Emma thought as she calculated the throw needed to land the squishy, mid-sized ball on the second level of the house.

She peered upwards, gently rocking the soft ball against her palms, as she waited for Henry to get into position to catch it. Vaulted ceilings, her rear end. She could totally make that shot between the two ugly vases Regina had up there on pedestals. "You ready yet, kid?"

What the hell could he possibly be doing? Besides holding out his hands and ensuring said ugly vases weren't destroyed, the kid had nothing better to be doing now that school was out for the summer. And, what better time was there to practice his catching skills? Especially when there was no Evil Queen to delegate and harangue the poor Savior's training techniques.

Exempting the bird attack incident from her record, Emma was a pretty good coach, if she did say so herself, and Henry had flourished under her unorthodox tutelage.

Suddenly, Henry's head bobbed over the railing, gloved hand outstretched. He stood in between the two vases, precisely where the ball needed to land before he had to pay up with an ice cream cone at Granny's. "You sure we should be doing this, ma?" He looked around warily at the priceless artwork that made up the decor of the house, some of it irreplaceable and other pieces more than his allowance would ever cover. There was a tiny voice in the back of his head that sounded suspiciously like his mother reminding him that throwing things in the house was forbidden.

Expressly forbidden in the strictest sense of the word.

"It's raining," Emma said by way of explanation. And, it was Thursday, which meant it was practice time when Regina was in her late night meeting discussing the town budget, or pot holes, or whatever it was that made her stay late at the office. "Anyway, you ready or not?"

Upstairs, Henry nodded his head and steadied his hand, mentally preparing for one hard pitch to be aimed upwards into his outstretched hand. With any luck, he would be thumbing out quarters from his piggy bank to pay for his ma's ice cream instead of thumbing those quarters to pay for a broken vase. Though, the look of sheer concentration on the blonde's face below was disconcerting enough to make him back up a couple of inches- just in case.

The sheriff took one last moment to ready her pitch before she let the squishy ball fly through the air. Too bad Regina wasn't there, she thought sullenly as she waited for the telltale thump that would signal Henry's catch, else the other woman wouldn't have been able to deny that it was a near perfect pitch; maybe a little long, but-

"Uh oh."

"Why would you say 'uh oh'?"

An "uh oh" in conjunction with a crash was never a good thing, at least not in Emma's experience. The last time she had heard an 'uh oh' was when August had accidentally thrown a baseball into the direction of Regina's Mercedes, and even then, when accompanied by the sickening crack of the windshield, she had been able to hide behind the fact that it had not been her to cause harm to Regina's things. August, on the other hand, had run as fast as his wooden legs could carry him in the hopes that he would not be turned into kindling.

She pinched the bridge of her nose and climbed the stairs two at a time, at once reluctant and eager to see the damage inflicted to the house. Please, God, she prayed silently, let it be anything 'Gina isn't particularly fond of- like, perhaps, an heirloom from her mother or some wedding present from her marriage to the King. Once she reached the top of the stairs, the blonde closed her eyes, pinching them tight against the scene. "Henry, I want you to tell me, in great detail, what the damage is."

"Vase on the right- the one mom told you to "keep your fumbling...I'm not allowed to say that word...fingers off" when you moved in," Henry replied in a matter-of-fact tone, easy shrug accompanying his words as he surveyed what was left of the black and white monstrosity on the floor. Truly, it had been hideous and wholly impractical for a home with a child, even one raised to not run or play catch indoors. No matter the good intentions toward providing him with good manners and respect for things of the breakable variety.

She was dead. Six feet under, dead, dead, dead. Instead of a wedding day, it would be her funeral. Complete with a cackling ex-Evil Queen to drop her corpse into the hastily dug hole in the backyard, in perfect view of the kitchen so Regina could relive her vengeance every time she washed the dishes or cooked dinner.

"Here's the deal, kid, we need to-"

"You missed," Henry accused, arms crossed over his chest.

"Yeah, I did, which means we really need to-"

"You said you wouldn't miss," the boy repeated. "You said that mom would never have to know that we played catch in the house; you lied."

That was just what she needed- her accomplice throwing her under the bus. Worse yet, her son had accused her of being a liar, again. Emma rolled her eyes at the implication, as though liar ranked higher than vase-destroyer in the grand scheme of things. "Look, kid, I didn't know the ball wasn't balanced or that it would pull at the last minute. It's not like I regularly practice with kid's toys, so when your mom gets here I'll distract her and-"

Henry rolled his eyes and stomped his foot against the floor. "You want me to clean it up while you distract mom? Meaning you're going to sit on the couch or mooch food while I clean."

To her credit, she had never explicitly told her son that she was going to distract his other mother from her crime by persuading her into an early bedtime, eyes closed as they passed the matching vases, or by mooching an apple tart for dessert. But, with any luck and the help of an alarm clock, she could keep Regina from finding out about the loss for a week or so, provided the kid stopped staring at her like she just kicked a puppy. "That's not what I said," Emma tried. "Out of the two of us, I could probably-"

"I have homework to do," Henry interrupted again as he turned on his heel to take his leave.

"Oh, hell no, kid, are you leaving me to take the blame for this!" Emma said lowly, pleased when the boy stopped in his tracks. "Who was it that had his glove ready for the ball? And, who was it who asked me to teach him outside of group lessons with Snow?" She pointed an index finger at the top of his floppy brown hair. "Yeah, it was you."

The boy shrugged. He was a kid, enough said. "You said you wouldn't miss," he restated unnecessarily, and not without a sly smirk aimed in the direction of the unfortunate vase. "You lied."

"Yeah, kid. I intentionally threw the ball into your mom's vase. Besides, you missed the ball, not me," Emma retorted, briefly ashamed at her descent into juvenile behavior. "Look, she's going to be home any-" She cringed at the sound of the back door opening. "Apparently, she's home now, so please, Henry, clean this up while I distract her. I'll do anything you want."

"I want the new Avengers movie," he replied in a hopeful tone, feet planted in the direction of the vase as he awaited her response. "If you get me the movie the day it comes out, I'll clean this up now while you distract mom downstairs."

"Kid, if you clean this up and keep quiet about it until I can replace the vase, I will buy you the blu-ray version with a new blu-ray player."

Henry shook his head, eyeing his mother skeptically. "I just want the movie, Emma, not a new DVD player. And," he added in a drawn out voice only children could attain without sounding foolish, "I want you to tell mom that it was your fault when she finds out the vase broke, 'cause it kind of was."

Emma nodded and waved over her shoulder as she shot down the stairs, careful not to trip and cause bodily harm that would leave a bloody trail back to the scene of the crime. At the foot of the stairs, she caught sight of the black trench coat that signaled the presence of a certain brunette in the open hall closet. Curiously open, she thought as she crept closer to the opened door, inching forward as though a wild animal might emerge from its depths and try to maul her to death.

"Emma Eleanor Swan!"

Found her, the blonde reluctantly admitted to herself as she dragged her feet across the short distance from the hall closet to the front door. Her hazel eyes widened dramatically at the broken piece of black and white porcelain, jagged edges and all, held aloft in the brunette's hand.

"Was there something you wanted to tell me, dear?"


End file.
